


A State of Desire

by marysiak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marysiak/pseuds/marysiak
Summary: Ron has a crush on Harry. Set in 6th year.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like a little something different. This was inspired by Penelope's latest rant on the state of slash fanfic. This is slash but it is PG, or G even I guess. It's just a short thought piece. Harry has some semi-homophobic thoughts, if you don't want to read someone not dealing very well with the idea of a boy having a crush on them then don't read this. The world isn't ideal, people don't always handle things well and that's what I wanted to explore.

It was the worst thing that could possibly ever have happened, he felt.   
  
You might find that hard to believe, it might not seem so terrible to you, but he felt that he could have dealt with it being anyone else far better.  
  
Anyone but someone he already cared about, anyone but someone who was already more than a brother, his best friend, his only real friend unless you counted Hermione, but she was a girl and that was different.  
  
The weirdest thing was the way it made him angry. Harry was always so perfect, it was always him. He was jealous of his own crush because he thought, whether rightly or wrongly, that no-one else would ever be in this quandary over him. No-one would ever feel faint in his presence, ever dream about him at night, ever spend all day just staring at him because they couldn't get enough of the way his skin seemed to glow with magic like it was inside him trying to get out and change the world.  
  
He listed the people it could have been, trying to find someone worse. He supposed it could have been Malfoy, but that wouldn't have been worse. He hardly saw Malfoy and besides he hated Malfoy, no relationship to destroy there, no chance of slipping up and actually trying anything and then spending the rest of his life trying to make it up or worse yet too ashamed to ever look him in the eye again.  
  
It was hard enough to look him in the eyes now without getting lost and then that god awful blush would rise up and make him look like an over-ripe tomato about to burst and spill it's guts out all over Harry's understated shoes.  
  
Harry's clothes were all new now and perfectly fitted, expensive, though he tried not to make that too obvious. Harry didn't like to stand out, but he always did in that way that Ron never would. He stood out like a traffic cone, like a blot of ink on a bright white piece of parchment. The boy he was watching over the top of his homework stood out like a star against the night sky, like a Firebolt in a pile of Comets.  
  
How could you not be jealous? How could you not want what he had when your shoes were just that bit too small and your trousers were bare at one knee and you kept growing out of your fucking robes like the top of your head had some ultimate goal high in the clouds that it was bound and determined to reach before you were eighteen?  
  
He was so bloody compact, so self contained. A midget he called himself. The Slytherin's jeered that he was still pre-pubescent and he thought that Harry heard those things and believed them, cause he certainly didn't see what most people saw when they looked at him. The strong jaw, the piercing eyes, the grace that he moved with that was hard to see for sure as it was so constrained. He was not a flamboyant person. He didn't show off. He didn't need to.  
  
How could you not want to have that, to touch that, when it was so obvious that you could never, ever be that?

\--

Harry knew how Ron felt. Ron didn't know that Harry knew, but he did.  
  
It had been a shock at first, he had almost laughed and then he had been disgusted and then he had just sat quietly for a bit and thought, "Shit, what am I supposed to do now?"  
  
He hadn't realised himself of course, despite the fact that he was getting used to people staring at him in lust. It happened more and more these days since he had tidied up his wardrobe a bit, started combing his hair occasionally and washing his face more often than once a week. He had discovered it felt nice to be clean and have soft, expensive clothing against his skin.  
  
He had thought Ron was angry about something. He had stopped talking to Harry and would glare at him across the room, sometimes even leaving as soon as Harry walked in. Harry had been hurt, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. It was, oddly enough, Malfoy who pointed out the real reason to him.  
  
They had been waiting outside the potions classroom for Hermione, who was running a little late due to her extra classes, when Malfoy sauntered toward them with his usual group of hangers on. "Potter," he had sneered and then turned to Ron. "Weasel. Still sniffing after Potter's arse I see. Can't get any girls to take you I expect. At least Potter's used to hanging about with the dregs of the wizarding world, doesn't have the same sort of standards as the rest of us."  
  
Harry's brain had been too busy whirring to stand up for Ron and it hadn't really been necessary as Ron had hurled himself bodily at Malfoy and just about throttled him while shouting, "He's got better taste than you'll ever have, ferret face. The only reason a girl would touch you would be for your dirty money!"  
  
Malfoy had tried to retort with something along the lines of 'At least I have money' but it had come out, "Grggh Arggh Mmph!" Then Crabbe and Goyle had pulled Ron off and Harry had got around to stopping them from beating him into too much of a pulp... instead they had both been beaten only slightly pulpish.  
  
As he had sat in Snape's office waiting for their punishment, he had thought over what Malfoy had said. That had been when the laughing seemed appropriate. It just didn't make sense. Why would Ron want him? He was a boy, Ron was a boy. It was Ron. It was stupid. He stared at Ron. He couldn't be serious could he.  
  
But Ron had looked back at him with this worried, hopeful expression that Harry suddenly recognised absolutely and without a doubt. He had seen that look before, on Ginny's face in second year. That was when the shock really hit. The disgust waited a little longer, until that evening in fact when he purposefully went to the bathrooms after Ron had already left them and changed into his pyjamas on his bed with the curtains drawn, feeling stupid but unable to handle the idea of Ron looking at him like that.  
  
It had been a few days before he could relax near Ron, a few nights before he'd talked himself out of the ridiculous fear that Ron would try and jump him in the shower or something. I mean, so what if he did, Harry would say he wasn't interested and that would be that.  
  
But it would change things between them, if it went that far. If he actually had to say no and then Ron knew he knew and he knew Ron knew. The less people that knew anything the better. He wished he still didn't know.  
  
Harry didn't hold much truck with relationships. He had toyed with the idea of one with Cho in 4th year, watched Ron and Hermione and a number of other couples try and have one in 5th year. Then he'd decided it was a waste of time and he would far rather play Quidditch than get involved in the whole messy business. Once he'd decided it had been remarkably easy not to get caught up in the crushes that seemed to affect most of his friends. He didn't want to get a crush on anyone, so he didn't.  
  
He'd tried to explain it to Ron once, but Ron said he didn't have that kind of self control. That much was very obvious.  
  
He wasn't nervous around Ron any more but it had changed things. He didn't want to encourage this so he was always careful what he wore or said around him. It made him feel... tense. His shoulders and neck ached a lot and sometimes it would run up and turn into a pounding headache.  
  
Life wasn't as much fun as it had used to be when he was younger, before people started getting crushes and worrying about how they looked and trying to be a grown up. He missed things being fun.


End file.
